Up All Night
by kahhtina
Summary: Originally posted in response to a drabble prompt on Tumblr: Mary keeps encountering Matthew while travelling during her gap year and eventually decide to travel together. Potential for continuation if more requests are sent in (to petercapaldork). "Chapters" are posted as I write/publish them on Tumblr.
1. Chapter 1

**Part 1**

Mary raised her eyebrows as she gazed across the train station, her eyes meeting a pair of familiar blue ones. He crossed the platform, eyes dancing merrily as he approached, pushing sunglasses up to rest on the top of his head.

"Are you following me?" she asked when he reached her.

"Who, me?" Matthew asked, as though her question was absurd.

"First Lisbon, then Madrid and Barcelona—and now, Nice. It's just too weird to be a coincidence," Mary retorted.

Matthew grinned, adjusting the straps of his rucksack. "How do I know you're not following me, Mary?"

"Oh, please," she retorted, rolling her eyes at him. His smile only grew. "And I suppose you're heading for Paris now?"

"Naturally," Matthew replied, shifting closer to her in order to avoid a porter rolling cases across the platform, his shoulder brushing against hers. Mary's heart gave a start. "Just waiting for the train. Apparently all the drawn rooms are taken, so I have to sit up in one of the dining cars. Twelve hours."

"Tragic," Mary said, cheeks reddening. She'd just bought the last ticket for a room with a bed.

"Wait, wait," he began, waving his hands suddenly. "Did you get the last drawn room? Are _you_ the reason I have to sit up for half a day? Overnight?"

Mary shrugged, avoiding his gaze. His stupid, adorable, nearly irresistible gaze.

"Dammit, Mary, I thought you had more compassion than that," he quipped, still grinning.

"What? It's not as though I planned it. If you'd only gotten here sooner, then _I'd _be the one forced to sit up all night. It isn't as though we can share the bed," she said, immediately regretting her words as Matthew's eyes lit up.

"Now there's an idea," he said, wagging his eyebrows excitedly.

Mary clenched her teeth together. _Why did he have to be so damn cute?_ "What? No way. No way in hell, Matthew Crawley."

"Oh, come on, Mary," he begged, taking her hands in his. _God, they were soft._ "Surely you can't be so cold as to not let a man, a weary traveler, have a bed for the night."

"And get myself murdered? No thank you," she retorted.

Matthew laughed. "Oh, I've had plenty of opportunities for that, haven't I? The catacombs at São Roque Church in Lisbon? Or Buen Retiro Park in Madrid? No no, you're perfectly safe with me, Mary. In fact, it might ease my mind a bit if we became travel buddies of sorts. Who knows what kind of mischief a gorgeous girl like you will get up to without a friendly face around."

"I've been perfectly fine on my own, thank you," she retorted, desperately wanting to take him up on his offer. Matthew was just so…interestingly witty and brilliant. But she wondered how it would look—they barely knew each other, after all.

"Don't be such a spoilsport," he teased, turning his head as their train came in. "Oh, there it is," he sighed wistfully, as though dreading his night in the dining car. "I'd even pay for my half of the room, but alas-"

"Oh, do stop whinging," Mary sighed, giving in. "Fine, we can share, but don't you dare get your dirty socks on the bed. I just did laundry yesterday."

Matthew grinned happily, following her onto the train. "Brilliant! I'll keep them as far away from you as possible, hell, I'll even shower if you like."

"That would be preferable," she replied, locating her room. She opened the door with the key, pushing in with Mathew on her heels. The bed took up most of the room, a small closet containing a toilet and shower in the corner, sink just outside the door.

"Twelve hours, Mary," Matthew said, dropping his bag on the floor, stretching arms over his head. "What shall we do with ourselves?"

Mary sat down on the bed, kicking off her shoes. "I brought a book."

Matthew smirked.

….

"Gin!" Mary said and Matthew frowned.

"How the hell do you keep doing that?" he questioned, staring at her cards.

"I've just had loads of practice," Mary said, crossing her legs on the bed. "I think that's the shirt now."

Matthew made a face, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it into the pile already containing both of his socks, the jumper he'd thrown on after showering earlier, and his trousers. They were only three hours into the train ride to Paris and it was just now nine o'clock. Mary swallowed as she looked at him, secretly wondering how all that muscle definition had been hiding beneath his clothes.

"I think I'm going to need more wine if we keep playing," he said, shaking his empty wine glass at her. "One just isn't enough."

"I don't know how you're going to cope wandering around Paris in the morning with a hangover," she teased, pouring more into his glass.

"I guess I'll just have to follow you around until I'm better," Matthew replied, shuffling the deck again. Mary scoffed, but couldn't keep her heart from racing at the prospect of spending more time with him. "Perhaps we should switch to Go-Fish? Maybe then I'd have a chance."

She laughed. "I doubt it. I'm pretty good at all card games," she said.

"But Go-Fish is more a game of chance rather than strategy," Matthew retorted, clearly enjoying himself. "It hardly seems fair that I'm down to my skivvies and you haven't lost so much as a sock."

She tilted her head to the side. "Are you trying to see me in my underwear, Crawley?" Mary teased, blushing slightly.

"Well, obviously not successfully," he replied. "Seriously? Go-Fish? I'm pretty good."

"Just deal," she retorted with a laugh.

The train gave a jolt as they came around the bend, causing Mary to slide across the bed and smash into Matthew, knocking him onto his back. The cards flew out of his hands, dropping around them like confetti, some landing on the floor while others littered the bed.

"Sorry," Mary breathed, her hands pressing against Matthew's chest. She would have moved, but she found herself frozen over top of him, another turn in the train pinning her down.

"It's alright," he replied, watching her carefully.

Mary blushed again, finally able to sit up. She scooted back to her side, avoiding his gaze a he pushed himself back up.

"I suppose we don't have to play cards anymore," Matthew whispered, eyes still trained on Mary.

"What will we do instead?" she questioned, highly aware of Matthew's naked torso now that she'd accidentally touched it. God, his abs were even firmer than she had imagined they'd be.

Her silent musings about Matthew's physique were interrupted as he slid closer to her on the bed, collecting the scattered playing cards. Mary watched him for a moment, biting her bottom lip.

"So do you want to play-" Matthew began, but his question was interrupted as Mary's lips smashed into his and she fell on top of him without meaning to, as the train went around another turn.

She pulled away, body still sprawled across his as Matthew lay on the mattress, looking rather dazed. "Sorry," she murmured, a little embarrassed she'd let her hormones get the best of her. Perhaps strip-Gin Rummy hadn't been the best idea.

"Don't apologize," he said, finally meeting her gaze. "I don't mind."

Mary snorted. "You don't _mind_?" she questioned. "That's encouraging."

Matthew laughed, reaching up to trace his finger down her neck, Mary's pulse racing at his touch. "You don't know how long I've wanted to do that?" She shook her head minutely. "Ages, Mary, ages. Since we got stuck in the catacombs, actually. Why do you think I was so keen to make our games of Gin more…_interesting_?"

"Well, you certainly have the body for it," Mary said, sucking in a ragged breath as Matthew's hands trailed over her waist, coming to rest on her hips.

"I may never know about you though," he replied softly. "But using my imagination—" His fingertips slipped beneath Mary's shirt, brushing lightly against her skin. "I'd say you do, too."

"How flattering," she murmured, hardly breathing as his hands moved slowly up her torso to gently touch the band of her bra, fingers trailing over the lacy fabric, his face lost in thought.

"Just trying to be polite, Mary," Matthew said, a small smirk on his face.

"Well, stop," she retorted, bringing her lips to his again. He grinned, hooking one of his legs around hers before tugging her shirt off and throwing it onto the floor.

"That was easier than playing Gin," he teased, leaning up to press his lips against her bare shoulder as he tossed her jeans aside.

"I rather enjoyed watching you squirm," Mary replied, settling across his hips, her skin burning at his touch.

Matthew chuckled, gently clasping her bra strap with his teeth and guiding it over her shoulder before pressing his lips to the base of her neck.


	2. Chapter 2

_Many thanks to **lovepurplemustaches **for the prompt to continue this drabble: What happens to Matthew and Mary after they get off the train in Paris? (Also posted on Tumblr.)_

_Enjoy!_

* * *

**Part Two**

She opened one eye, trying to block out the sun as the porter knocked on doors, rousing unconscious travelers as the train neared the station in Paris. Her cheek was pressed to Matthew's chest, his fingers tangled with hers, his snoring filling the small room.

"Matthew," Mary whispered, giving his shoulder a shake. "Matthew wake up."

His eyes opened. "Is it time for breakfast?" he murmured his fingers wiggling against hers.

"Twenty minutes to Paris," she said, sitting up at his side.

"No, come back to bed," he complained, reaching out to brush his hand across her side, the sensation sending a thrill through her. She smiled, leaning down to kiss him quickly.

"Up you get," she insisted, combing her fingers through his hair. "Then breakfast."

"Fine, you win," Matthew replied. "_I_ already won last night."

"Excuse me, I think _I'm _the one who won all those rounds of Gin," she corrected, grabbing a clean pair of underwear from her bag, which lay next to Matthew's.

He laughed, coming to her side, arms encircling her. "That's not what I meant," he replied, pressing his lips to her forehead.

"What did you—oh. _Oh_," she said slowly, feeling a little silly at her delayed reaction. "You're a dirty boy, Matthew Crawley."

Matthew planted a look of mock surprise on his face. "I showered last night!"

"Fifteen minutes to Paris!" the porter's voice came through the door, alternating in French and English.

"We need to get dressed," she said, pulling on her under things.

"Oh, come on, it is Paris," Matthew teased, giving her a smirk before finding clothes to wear.

…

"Stop fiddling with that camera," Mary said, rolling her eyes as she finished the coffee Matthew had bought when they got off the train.

"I'm not fiddling, I'm _photographing_. There's a difference," Matthew retorted, bringing the camera to his face and snapping a few of Mary.

"Don't take pictures of me," she complained halfheartedly, shoving his hand away.

"I'm not taking them of _you_, the Eiffel Tower is right behind you," he replied, smirking.

"Yeah, about a mile behind me," she snorted, throwing the empty coffee cup into the rubbish bin.

A woman passed by, stopping to ask Matthew a question in French. He responded and Mary lifted an eyebrow as he handed his camera over to her before coming to Mary's side.

"You speak French?" she asked, looking up at him in awe.

He laughed, circling his arm around her waist. "_Oui. _But smile now, for the camera, love."

Mary turned her head, a dazed smile on her face as the woman took picture after picture of them, the clicking over the camera hardly audible over the buzzing in her head. At one point, Matthew pressed a kiss into her hair and Mary felt so strange, her entire body tingling from Matthew's touch as his fingers grazed against the skin beneath the hem of her shirt.

Smiling, the woman handed the camera back, speaking to Matthew again before waving goodbye and heading off.

"What did she say to you?" Mary asked as Matthew pulled away, a smile still on his stupidly handsome face.

"That we're, uh, a beautiful couple," he said, cheeks turning pink.

"A couple?" she questioned, unable to stop herself from smiling. They began to walk down the pavement together, a small gap between their bodies. "Interesting. Although I think to be a couple, we'd have to go on a date."

"You mean last night wasn't a date?" Matthew teased, bumping his shoulder into hers.

"Not exactly," Mary replied, blushing slightly. "The only thing _you_ asked was to share my room. I think generally people go places on dates."

He laughed. "We traveled across France. I'm pretty sure that's _going somewhere_."

"Yeah, we went a lot of places last night I've never gone with a man I hardly know before," she retorted.

Matthew reached over and took her hand, lacing their fingers together. "Oh, come off it, we've known each other for two months, at least. We spent an entire day together in Madrid. I honestly can't remember the last time I've been this comfortable with someone," he said.

Mary smiled, a sensation of warmth spreading from where their palms met. "Nor I," she admitted, relishing in the grin on Matthew's face at her words.

Matthew stopped walking, pulling her close. "So, you've got a little crush on me?" he teased.

Mary scoffed. "Shut up."

"Just admit it, come on," he begged, leaning his forehead against hers.

"I'll admit no such thing, Crawley," she replied, her attempts at flirting wavering under his gaze. "In fact, I barely like you at all."

He laughed, bringing his lips to hers. "You're adorable," he murmured, hooking his arms around her waist, his fingers lacing together at the small of her back.

"How much longer am I going to have to put up with you?" she quipped, gliding her fingers through his hair.

"Dunno," Matthew whispered, his nose touching hers. "I haven't had a solid travel plan in weeks."

"So you _were_ following me?" she asked, abashed.

"I swear, it was fate, not me," Matthew replied. "After Barcelona, I figured I would just go whichever way the wind blew—what the hell—and if, by chance, I happened to run into you again, well, I wasn't going to mind."

Mary suppressed a smile, her heart skipping a few beats. God, she should not be falling for him, not her. "You certainly know what a girl likes to hear," she murmured.

"Me? Nah, I'm hopeless, Mary. You just make everything easier. God, you're just so—"

"Easy?" she prompted.

"I was going to say inviting," he retorted, kissing her again, his lips lingering longer than before. "So, I never asked—what's sent you on this whirlwind trip across Europe? Are you on the lam?"

Her smile faltered. "Perks of being an Earl's daughter I suppose—you can do whatever you bloody want as long as you kick and scream enough."

Matthew watched her, taking her hand again as they walked. "My, I never would have pegged you for nobility," he said carefully, voice still light. "Running away from responsibilities, are you?"

She shrugged, pulling her hand out of his and quickening her pace. She got about fifteen feet before Matthew caught up, his hands grasping hers and pulling her to him.

"Shit, I'm sorry. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," he said, tucking a strand of hair behind Mary's ear. "I just—"

"Have a crush on me?" she countered, her previous spark lessened. "I'm…I'm just not quite ready to talk about it."

"Alright," he agreed with a nod, eyes filled with concern Mary couldn't entirely account for.

She pulled away, but took his hand, startling Matthew as they moved forward. "So, how long are you going to follow me around?" she questioned, giving him a small smile.

"Forever."


	3. Chapter 3

_Requested by anonymous: Can you write Matthew and Mary's first date in Paris?_

_Enjoy!_

* * *

**Part Three**

"So, what did you think of dinner?"

Matthew's arm snaked around her waist, holding her close as they walked down a path by the Seine, the water sparkling in the moonlight.

"It was nice. Good food and even better company," Mary told him, unable to suppress a smile. He brushed his nose against her ear, goosebumps appearing on her skin at his touch.

"Not sick of me yet?" Matthew asked.

She chuckled. "Give it time," she teased as they crossed through a park, the sound of music drifting from an outdoor cafe.

"Let's dance," Matthew said, lifting Mary off her feet and spinning in a circle before she could protest.

"Matthew!" Mary squealed, securing one arm around his neck to keep herself from falling.

Matthew set her down again, beginning to dance some sort of two-step Mary easily followed in spite of feeling dizzy from his nearness and the confusion that settled in after the question of her past had come up that morning.

Why did she want to tell him things she'd left home to escape? Of broken dreams and fractured promises, of a life she never wanted but should have had. Of her own failures and shortcomings.

And why did she feel safe in his arms?

"Is something wrong?" he asked, misinterpreting the frown that had unwittingly drawn her brows together.

Mary shook her head, her lips pressing into a line before she leaned her head against his shoulder, releasing a sigh.

"You could tell me, you know," Matthew said softly. "About whatever it is you're running from. I swear I'm not going to publish it on the internet—this isn't like a _Roman Holiday_ thing."

"Matthew—" she sighed again, face still pressed to his shirt.

"Do you not want to tell me? Because that's fine too," he breathed, kissing her hair.

"That's not it," Mary said, leaning back to look into his face.

"Then what is it?" he asked, voice so gentle she thought she would break into a thousand tiny pieces.

She swallowed hard, tears burning her eyes. "You'll hate me for it, I know you will," she whispered, voice breaking.

"There's nothing that could make me hate you, Mary, nothing," Matthew said emphatically, kissing her forehead for reassurance.

"You don't know what I've done," Mary breathed. Her hand shook against his, her entire body trembling as she forced herself to say it. He deserved to know, deserved to be able to get away from her if he wanted to. "Back home, before I left, I had a boyfriend."

"Had?" he prompted, his eyes softening.

"We…we broke up when I finished at uni last year. Things just—just didn't pan out for us," Mary whispered.

"What do you mean?" Matthew asked, thumb caressing the back of her hand.

"He cheated on me, but I couldn't bear to break up with him at first. I thought I loved him. Stupid, stupid me," she sighed.

"So, what happened?" he asked after a few moments of silence.

"It happened again. But I was…I was already pregnant," she murmured. "God, I didn't want a baby. Especially not with him."

Matthew remained silent, clearly waiting to see if she'd continue. She swallowed, taking a few deep breaths, but the shaking wouldn't stop as the rest of the words spilled out of her, tears falling down her cheeks as she spoke.

"But it didn't matter because I lost it. I almost got rid of it, but I lost it two months in and, oh God, I couldn't bear to be there anymore, surrounded by everything that reminded me of him and losing a child I never wanted."

She covered her face with her hands, surprise washing over her as Matthew wrapped his arms tightly around her body, his soothing embrace only increasing the sobs wracking her body.

"I'm sorry," she said, finally able to meet his eyes again.

"For what, Mary?" Matthew asked, shaking his head. "For trusting me? For getting on with your life? For loving someone? You don't have anything to apologize for—not to me."

She was quiet, her heart constricting painfully from remembrance of her past and the hope brought to her by Matthew's words.

"God, Mary," he said, hugging her tighter. "I'm so sorry you had to suffer like that. That bastard never deserved you anyway."

"Sure he did," she murmured. "I'm sure I deserved him as well."

Matthew pulled away, angry now. "No, you didn't. No one ever deserves to be treated like that. Never."

"Sometimes, I wonder, if I had been a better girlfriend—more caring or gentle or whatever—if he would have loved me," she breathed.

"If he didn't love you for you, then he sure as hell wasn't worthy of you, Mary," he insisted, his thumb brushing against her cheek. "You deserve so much better."

"How do you know?" she asked.

He smiled softly. "_Because I've seen you naked. And held you in my arms. And I know the real you_. And you deserve someone who loves you, trust me."

Mary nodded, clutching at his shirt. "I do, Matthew," she said. "I do trust you."

"Good."

He brought his face closer, hesitating for a moment before his lips touched hers and Mary pressed against him, anxiously searching for some unknown comfort that would erase all her guilt from the past two years. Her fingers tangled in his hair and Matthew's arms were around her once more before he lifted her off her feet. She jumped and wrapped her legs around his waist, ignoring every impulse that told her to be careful, that reminded her of past hurts.

Matthew pulled away after a while, gasping for air as his hands moved across her skin. "Want to get out of here?" he asked, gazing up at her with starry eyes.

"Yeah," she nodded, kissing his neck as she slid back to the ground. "Let's go back to the room."

"_Our_ room," he interjected, taking her hand. He gave it a gentle tug and she followed after him, heart still pounding hard from Matthew's kisses and her new reliance on this man she still knew so little of but couldn't keep from trusting.

* * *

_Feel free to share any thoughts you may have. :)_


	4. Chapter 4

**Part Four**

"Matthew, you're awfully quiet."

He turned from the window, finally meeting her gaze. He smiled, but his eyes were still dark, the grin on his lips not reflected there.

"Sorry, I was—I was just thinking," Matthew said, picking apart his dinner.

"That chicken is too expensive for you to be doing that," Mary teased, reaching across the table to give his hand a squeeze.

"Sorry," he said again, setting his fork aside to take her hand.

She smiled. "Well, I'm not the one who said he'd pay for it."

"I—I didn't realize how beautiful the view would be from here," Matthew said, his eyes returning to the window. "Lavinia would have loved to see this."

Mary's brow knit together, her stomach dropping like a brick had fallen into it. "Who's Lavinia?" she asked, her anxiety overpowered by curiosity.

Matthew took a deep breath and released it slowly, his unfocused gaze seeing nothing out the window, not the lights, not the city.

"She was my girlfriend," he said finally, still looking away.

"Was?" Mary asked when he paused for a long while. "What happened?"

He looked at her again, the pain in his eyes so deep, Mary wondered how he kept it hidden.

"She died."

Mary felt the sadness, the ache in his words, compelling her to cover his hand with both of her own, giving it a gentle squeeze. Matthew sniffed, his eyes blinking back tears as Mary waited for him to continue.

"Lavinia—she had leukemia when she was a teenager, just before she was supposed to finish school. Treatments seemed to work, she went into remission and then we met my last year at uni," Matthew sighed. "And then it came back, like an anvil, and she never got better, no matter what the doctors did. She deserved so much better than to die at twenty-two."

"Oh, Matthew," she said quietly, words failing her. "What—what was she like?"

"God, she was the sweetest, kindest person I'd ever met. She loved people, loved living. She wanted to see the world, Paris and Rome and Athens. We used to talk about traveling together, looked through hundreds of guidebooks when she was back in hospital, but I knew we'd never get to go. She'd only ever see pictures, never the real thing."

He spoke softly, his hand clinging to Mary's like an anchor, seeming to find some comfort from her touch. She could only wait for him to speak again, to share more with her or cut him out.

"I got on with my life after she died, because I had to do something, but going to an office every day was like living in my own coffin. Three years went by and I realized I couldn't do it anymore. I had enough money to finally do this, do something Lavinia would have wanted for me," Matthew finished. He brushed his fingers across the back of her hand. "So, now you know what's driven me from home. We're a couple of broken souls, Mary."

The corners of his mouth lifted and Mary smiled too, formed on shared burdens rather than separate pain.

"I'm sorry you loved someone you couldn't keep," she said, eyes filled with moisture.

"She was worth the pain," Matthew replied firmly, the cloudiness of remembrance replaced by a new fire in his eyes. "Sometimes love is worth the risk."

Mary's heart constricted as she realized he was no longer speaking of a lost love, but of one yet to be, one that was sitting right in front of him.

"How do you know?" she asked softly, her heart racing.

Matthew brought her hand to his lips, his fingers tracing over her palm. "Sometimes, you just have to trust yourself," he said gently. "Trust me."

Mary inhaled slowly, the weight of Matthew's words settling heavily in the air, clouding her senses.

"I wish it wasn't our last night in Paris," she breathed.

"So many places left to see," Matthew replied with a smirk, his playful demeanor returning. "Like I said, you're not getting rid of me that easily."

_**Thoughts?**_


	5. Chapter 5

_Amerigirltn requested that Mary and Matthew go to Amsterdam, so here it is. Sorry these are getting really depressing. I'm a masochist, if AOA was any indication._

_Enjoy!_

* * *

**Part Five**

"A six hour layover in Belgium is all I get?" Mary complained, reaching for Matthew's hand as they walked back to the train station.

"Hey, at least we've squeezed it in. Then it's on to Amsterdam and walking along canals before Denmark."

"Only _two_ full days in Amsterdam?"

"I don't know why you're complaining," Matthew began with a smile, pulling her closer. "It was _your_ itinerary."

Mary snorted. "And it couldn't have been amended?" she questioned.

"Not if you want to spend three full weeks in Germany and then nearly a month in Italy, darling."

Mary stopped walking, pulling Matthew to a sudden halt.

"What is it? The train leaves in twenty minutes and we still have—"

She felt herself blush, for he'd never called her by that endearment before. "It's nothing," Mary said, stifling a smile. "Sorry, I was just thinking."

They began walking and Matthew gave her hand a squeeze. "Anything you want to share?" he asked.

"No, I just—" she began, "I never thought I'd be enjoying this so much. I was so terrified when I left home. Everyone said I was running away, and I suppose I was."

"Well, maybe you were running towardsomething," he corrected with a grin.

"Perhaps now," Mary added leaning her head onto Matthew's shoulder.

….

"So, what are we going to do with this new-found freedom, Crawley? Amsterdam is widely known for its relaxed morals," Mary murmured as they walked along a waterway.

"I've always wanted to see the Anne Frank House," Matthew said, his arm around Mary's shoulders.

"That sounds depressing," Mary said, hooking her arm around his waist. "Perhaps tomorrow, after we've had a night to sleep off the train."

"Fine, fine," he replied. "The Van Gogh Museum? Or perhaps somewhere a bit riskier? I think I saw a McDonald's over there."

"You know, you're really no help at all," she quipped with a laugh.

"Mary?"

She halted immediately, the sound of his voice turning her blood cold. Mary turned her head and he came into view, his warm brown eyes making her stomach turn.

"It is you! God, fancy seeing you in Amsterdam, of all places," he said, a twisted grin on his handsome face. Matthew let go of Mary, his face worried as the man wrapped her in a hug that was not wanted nor returned.

"Kemal," Mary spoke, her tone deadened as he pulled away. She'd never spoken his name, not since the end of their relationship, never even told Matthew. The word felt like lead on her tongue or a knife to the gut, causing more pain than she had ever imagined.

"I'd heard you left England, but I never thought you'd end up here. What a small world! And you're not traveling alone, I see," he said, eyeing Matthew with a narrow gaze that Mary saw was returned in full force. "God, you get around now, don't you?"

"Hey!" Matthew spoke up, taking a step toward Kemal.

"Relax, buddy, Mary and I are old friends, aren't we, sweetheart?"

Her stomach felt as though she'd been kicked, a feeling of emptiness returning and settling in her limbs. "Shove off," she murmured without any force, her eyes burning.

"You're hilarious, Mary, really funny," Kemal said, shifting closer to her. "Actually, if you'd want to catch up, I'm staying just a few blocks away—"

"Like hell she does," Matthew said, giving Kemal's shoulder a hard shove.

"Watch it, mate! What's your problem?" he asked, holding his hands up defensively.

"_My problem is you_," Matthew growled.

"Matthew, please," Mary said forcibly, finding her strength once more. "Let's go."

"Yeah, okay," Matthew replied, gently placing his hand on Mary's back as she began walking away.

"That's right, little girl, run away—like always," Kemal called after them.

Matthew turned, but Mary had rounded on Kemal fast, drawing back a fist and ramming it into her ex's face with as much force as possible.

"Oh, shit!" she yelled, cradling her hand as Kemal toppled to the ground, holding his bleeding nose. "Dammit, that hurts."

Matthew grabbed her arm and pulled her down the street. "You're amazing, you are," he said in awe.

They turned the corner and Mary stopped again, her shoulders shaking with such force she couldn't speak.

"Oh, God," he murmured, gently touching her cheek, his fingers dampening with her tears. "Mary, you know he was wrong. That guy is trash, complete scum."

"How could I have loved him?" she whimpered, hand still smarting. "What is wrong with me?"

"Nothing, absolutely nothing is wrong with you, Mary," he said gently. "You are so very brave, my love."

Mary swallowed, his choice of words forcing her to meet Matthew's gaze, but she didn't question it. She couldn't bring herself to ask, to possibly ruin another moment with him.

"You think so?" she asked quietly.

Matthew nodded. "Yes, yes I do," he replied, kissing her forehead. "How about we get some ice for your hand? That was quite a punch."

She forced a smile and they began walking again.

"Remind me to never cross you," Matthew said, attempting to lighten the mood.

"Yes, well, I think that's the last time I'll be punching anyone," Mary retorted. "I'll be surprised if I didn't break something."

"Hopefully just his face," Matthew replied.

_**Thoughts?**_


	6. Chapter 6

_Tumblr prompt, **amerigriltn** asked: "Mary is in the shower early one morning and her cell phone rings. Matthew answers it and it's Robert who has lots of questions about who he is and why he's answering her phone so early in the morning."_

_Enjoy!_

* * *

**Part Six**

Mary stood under the hot water, steam filling the shower around her as she washed off days of grim and travel, as she and Matthew had only arrived at the hotel in Berlin in the early hours of the morning, too tired to bother much with anything except falling into bed. Now she hoped the burning water would wash her troubles away, sending them down the drain with the rest of the dirt.

Ever since seeing Kemal in Amsterdam, an uneasy feeling had settled over Mary, marring the happiness she'd found with Matthew. It was as though she'd seen real life again, what it would be like after their travels had ended. And she knew one day they would have to end. Her father wouldn't put up with her draining money forever, no matter how far away she went, she'd have to go home one day.

But how would she go back to a place that was no longer home? A place where she'd suffered so much and received so little. How could she go back when home was somewhere else now? When home was _someone_ else?

Finally clean, Mary got out of the shower, wrapping a towel around her wet body in order to ask Matthew about the rest of the day, but she paused, hearing her mobile going off in the other room.

"Oh, damn it," she whispered. She'd forgotten to turn it back off after checking her e-mail this morning, something she never did. And she _never_ answered calls on it. But Matthew didn't realize that.

"Hello?" his voice came cautiously through the open door. "Mary's in the shower. This is Matthew, who's this?"

Silence followed as Matthew listened, Mary's anxiety increasing steadily.

"Look, we're just traveling together, I don't get why you're so upset, sir."

_Sir?_ _Oh, shit._

Mary exited the bathroom, hugging the towel around her middle, feeling as though she would fall apart.

"Give me that," she demanded, holding her hand out for the phone.

"It's your father, apparently, he's very put out," Matthew said. "Called me quite a nasty word."

Mary frowned, bringing the phone to her ear. "Papa, hi," she said slowly, ready for the storm about to descend on her.

"Mary Josephine—WHO THE HELL WAS THAT?"

"Papa, it's fine," Mary attempted, Robert's anger so strong she could feel it through the line.

"No it bloody well isn't _fine_!" he yelled back. "What are you doing? Spending my money traveling through Europe, sharing your bed with strange men, God, what is wrong with you?"

"He's not a strange man, Papa," she said. "I've known him for—"

"What? Weeks? A month or two? Bloody hell, you're such a child. You don't know him at all," her father spat. "I have half a mind to fly there and drag you back myself. Yes, I see you're in Berlin, I could be there in less than six hours if I wanted to."

"Look, I'm not coming home until my trip is done, so you can just forget about that," Mary said with as much authority as she could muster.

"Then I'll cut you off, let you find your own way home, I don't care. You think I do, but I don't. God, you're going to get yourself murdered, Mary."

"Papa, please. Matthew and I met at uni," she lied, turning from Matthew, who frowned. "We ran into each other in Nice and decided it would be cheaper to split the bill. He sleeps on the floor."

Behind her Matthew coughed, but she ignored him.

"He does, does he?" Robert asked skeptically. "How's he liking that?"

"He complains a lot," she fabricated. "I'm thinking about dumping him on the way to Italy."

Robert scoffed. "I don't like this one bit, not at all, but it has been cheaper. As long as you're not lying to me?"

"No, Papa, of course not," she lied again.

He sighed, defeated. "You need to call more, your mother's been worried sick."

"I'm sorry," she said, settling on the corner of the bed. "Mobile service is bad over here."

"Well buy another phone," Robert said.

"Maybe. Give Mama my love," Mary said, aware of Matthew's eyes on her.

"Be careful, Mary," her father said, his tone conveying more than his simple words.

She couldn't help but look at Matthew now, the intensity of his gaze making her brain go fuzzy.

"I-I will. I'll call you later," Mary murmured. She hung up and shut off the phone before dropping it on the bed. "You shouldn't have answered it," she breathed, fingering the corner of the wet towel covering her.

"Clearly," Matthew said, still watching her. "So, we met at uni?"

"God, would you rather I go home?" she asked snappishly, blinking tears from her eyes.

He didn't speak right away. "No. No, I don't want that," Matthew murmured, approaching her slowly. He touched her shoulder with his fingertips, brushing away some strands of her damp hair. "God, Mary, I don't want you to ever go away."

She sighed, gently pressing her lips to his fingers. "I don't either," she whispered, meeting his gaze.

Matthew smiled, his eyes rather sad, but leaned down to kiss her. Mary grabbed his shirt collar, pulling him down to the bed.

"You just showered," he breathed against her lips, grinning as Mary tossed his shirt aside.

"I'll shower again," she replied.

_**Thoughts?**_


	7. Chapter 7

_Prompt from Anonymous on Tumblr: Idea for you for Up all Night - Matthew holds Mary's hair back when she's had too much to drink in Germany..._

_Enjoy!_

* * *

**Part Seven**

Knees on the tiled floor, head poised over the toilet bowl, Mary emptied the contents of her stomach into the basin. The alcohol burned just as much coming up as it had going down. Maybe more.

"Mary," Matthew's voice came through the open door, sending a wave of shame through her as the vomiting stopped for a moment.

She wiped her mouth, fighting the urge to cry as he took a seat on the side of the claw-foot tub.

"I think I may have overdone it," she murmured, her words slurring together. "But it's been a pretty s-sitty-shitty day."

He reached out, brushing his hand over her shoulder. "I'm sorry about that—I had no idea it would rain the whole day."

She leaned against his calf, taking a few deep breaths to keep from throwing up more. "It's not that," she breathed, hands still shaking.

"I'm sorry about answering your phone, too," Matthew said.

Mary couldn't respond, as she started throwing up again, memories of her father's phone call resurfacing through the alcohol she had hoped would repress it. As her hands clutched the side of the bowl, Matthew smoothed her hair back and held it from her face, in the hopes of keeping most of the sick from it.

Finally, the contents of her stomach seemed to be dispelled, only water left inside her. She released a sob, burying her face in a clean towel.

"God, this is so embarrassing," Mary cried as Matthew rubbed her back.

"I did try to stop you," he reminded her, although her memory had grown increasingly fuzzy after the third martini.

"And I suppose this will louse up our plans for tomorrow—whatever the hell they were. I usually have the worst hangovers," she replied, lifting her face from the cloth to look at him. "I'm such an idiot."

"Don't worry about that, I don't care. We still have four days left in Berlin, we can afford to waste one in bed."

She offered him a weak smile. "Why are you so nice to me?"

Matthew grinned, planting a kiss on her forehead—her rather sweaty forehead—before replying, "Some one has to be."

Mary leaned her head on his knee, feeling a bit better.

"Let's get you to bed, hmm?" he asked, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"The morning's going to be hell," she sighed, struggling to her feet. Matthew grabbed her arm to steady her.

"Lucky you have me to nurse you back to health," he said, allowing Mary to rinse her mouth out at the sink before helping her into the bedroom. He was being so sweet, she nearly wanted to cry again.

"You shouldn't be so nice to me," she said, causing Matthew to chuckle as she laid down on the bed.

"Don't tell me what to do," he whispered softly, tucking the blanket around her body, the warmth of his hands soothing her frayed nerves.

"I'll do whatever I like," Mary murmured, her eyelids becoming heavy. Matthew flicked off the overhead light, leaning down to kiss Mary's temple.

"I know you will," he said, his gentle words the last thing Mary heard before sleep took her.


	8. Chapter 8

_Amerigirltn on Tumblr asked: "An UAN prompt: While in Rome, they see a wedding at the top of the Spanish steps. What are their individual thoughts? (This really happened the first time I was in Rome.)"_

_Enjoy!_

* * *

**Part Eight**

Matthew stopped as they walked through the piazza, camera to his eye as he snapped a few shots of the fountain in the middle of the square. She walked past him, ignoring the camera as she always did, leaning over the edge to look at the cool, clear water. It looked so inviting, she nearly wanted to jump in the water, the sun was so hot even in the late afternoon.

"Don't even think about it," Matthew said behind her. She turned her head and he took a few shots of her before lowering his camera. "Do you know how many dogs and small children have probably peed in there?"

Mary wrinkled her nose, but Matthew's gaze went up, his eyes focusing on the top of the Spanish steps.

"Look," he said.

She followed his gaze, her eyes falling on a group of people she had automatically assumed to be tourists, but now saw were wedding guests. The groom stood at the very top, officiant by his side, music now coming from a violinist. The bride appeared at the top, her lacy dress flowing across the ground.

Mary felt herself move closer, ascending the first set of steps with Matthew on her heels. Other tourists had stopped to observe as well, although the words of the ceremony were inaudible to those so far away.

They were now close enough to see the bride and groom's faces, the happiness radiating from both of them so foreign to her and yet suddenly familiar, she had to lean against the stone wall on the side of the steps.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Matthew's eyes on her. Her heart felt strange as she looked at him, as though it was too full but unable to release what it was she felt. His eyes softened and he reached out for her hand, their fingers intertwining. Mary felt her eyes burn and she looked away, back up to the couple who were now sealing their promise with a kiss. Applause erupted around the steps, from guests and tourists alike, but Matthew's eyes remained on her.

"Mary?" Matthew questioned softly, his hand applying pressure to hers momentarily. "Are you alright?"

She nodded, but felt her eyes water, her vision becoming blurry as Matthew pulled her into a hug. He pressed his lips to the side of her head before pulling away, his eyes searching hers.

"Darling, I—" he began nervously, his tone making her stomach tighten.

"Matthew, don't," Mary stopped him, her brow furrowed as she pulled away.

"Don't, what?" he asked, following her as she descended the steps, leaving behind the scene of happiness she couldn't help but covet.

She turned to face him, eyes still burning. "Don't say whatever it is you were about to say. Please."

"Why the hell not?" he asked, his own frown deepening.

"Because…I can't say it back."

Matthew's face slackened, like the air going out of a balloon. "God, he really screwed you up, didn't he?" She swallowed, dropping her gaze to the stone beneath her feet. "Mary, I'm sorry," he said softly, stepping toward her again, but he paused, unsure his comfort would be welcome.

"I don't…I don't even think I know what love is," she whispered. Matthew sucked in a breath and she knew that she'd been correct, that he'd been about to declare his feelings for her. Her chest constricted.

"Oh, God, Mary," Matthew murmured, his arms encircling her again. "Love is—is taking care of someone when they're sick, or sharing your gelato because the other person didn't like her flavor. Love is realizing someone else's needs are more important than yours."

Mary blinked, her throat feeling tight while her heart raced.

"Matthew, you…you love me?"

He pulled away and Mary saw he was smiling. "I thought you didn't want me to say it," he said impishly. Mary smiled slightly, in spite of the anxiety she felt.

"And I thought you didn't want me to tell you what to do," she replied.

"I don't," Matthew murmured, his forehead pressed to hers. "I love you, Mary."

She blinked back tears before she kissed his lips, unable to sort her own feelings into words. He smiled beneath her kiss, holding her tightly against his waist.

"You know I can't say it," she whispered, and Matthew kissed the tip of her nose.

"I can wait."

**_Thoughts?_**


	9. Chapter 9

_Anonymous prompt on Tumblr: "Mary buys some fancy lingerie in Italy but gets shy when the time comes to show it off to Matthew."_

_Enjoy!_

* * *

**Part Nine**

"I still don't understand why you want to look at some silly wall—just because it's based from a Shakespeare play," Matthew sighed, his arm around Mary's waist as they walked down the pavement.

"Juliet's wall is a must-see in Verona," Mary assured him, "the guidebook said so."

"Oh, well, if the guidebook said it…" he teased, kissing Mary's temple. "Clearly, the guidebook forgot to mention that _Romeo and Juliet _is not actually the greatest love story ever told."

"Millions of high school English teachers would weep to hear you say such things," Mary replied in mock-scandal.

Matthew grinned. "Families feuding, people dying—sounds more like Christmas dinner to me."

Mary stifled a laugh. "You must have one exciting family," she replied.

"Oh, you'd love it," he said, the conviction in his voice sending a pang of longing through her.

Ever since Rome, Mary had felt the dynamic of their relationship shift, as Matthew no longer had to hide his love for her. He hadn't said it again, but she could see it in his behavior, in his careful consideration for her feelings, the way he couldn't keep himself from holding her hand or maintaining some form of physical contact with her. In the mornings, when they weren't sleeping on a bus or sitting up on a train all night, his arm would always be around her, holding her body close to his, skin pressed to skin. She usually woke first, finding herself staring at him in the early morning light, trying to decipher her feelings before he opened his eyes but unable to do so. She knew she felt something for him, something she could hardly understand yet, but if it was love…

"Here it is," Matthew declared, pulling Mary out of her thoughts. "Juliet's wall."

Hundreds, perhaps thousands, of letters covered the stone wall, stuck into every crevice and grate.

"Wow," Mary breathed, a strange emotion constricting her heart. "All these people, these letters waiting to be answered. Hopes of…of love." She frowned, feeling Matthew's gaze on her. "Well, where's your letter?" she questioned, lightening her voice slightly.

"Don't need one," Matthew replied, brushing his nose against hers.

"You're very confident," Mary said, his gentle touch bringing a smile to her lips.

Matthew grinned and she couldn't help but feel better at the sight. "I love you," he said simply. "And that's enough for me."

She leaned forward to kiss him, her fingers combing through his hair before finally resting on his face.

"I don't deserve someone like you, Matthew," Mary whispered.

"You know that isn't true," he replied, brow furrowed. "You deserve to be loved, darling."

"But what if I can't love you back, I—?"

"Then I'll still love you," he said. "Besides, I'm a horribly flawed human being, Mary. My feet sweat, I chew with my mouth open, and I always leave the water running when I brush my teeth."

Mary snorted. "What a horrible person you are," she teased, kissing him quickly. "And you snore."

"I do not!" he said indignantly, his smile returning.

She rolled her eyes. "And how would _you_ know?

He looked thoughtful for a moment. "Well, no one's told me yet."

"Apparently everyone who's ever been near you while you're sleeping is selectively deaf."

"C'mon, we can go back to the hotel and test this theory of yours," Matthew said, grabbing her hand. "And maybe you'll show me what you bought while I was getting lunch earlier?"

Mary blushed, wishing she hadn't given in to the Italian saleswoman who'd convinced her to buy some rather revealing lingerie. But her Italian was only so effective against a native's.

"I still don't understand why you're being so secretive about it," he voiced, unaware of the shop she'd gone into while he found sandwiches for them.

"Stop nagging so much and maybe you'll see," she replied, hoping he wouldn't notice the heat in her cheeks.

Matthew laughed, pulling her along at a quicker pace. "Fine. But if we hurry, maybe I'll find out sooner."

"Well, you can try," she retorted.

* * *

"What are you doing in there, Mary?"

"Baking bread, now shut it," she muttered at the door, Matthew's laughter at her reply easily heard through the door.

Mary sighed, adjusting the strap across her shoulder. The black lace covering her was so sheer she could see every inch her skin beneath it, the shape of her panties clearly visible as well.

"Oh, God," Mary breathed, half-wishing she hadn't given in to either the saleswoman's pitch or Matthew's entreaty to see her purchase.

"Did you buy a ballgown or something?" Matthew asked, his ignorance increasing her annoyance. "Do you need me to zip you in?"

"Don't be an ass," she replied, hand poised over the door handle.

"I'm sorry," he said, sounding as though his face was right by the door. "Please come out."

A worried frown on her face, Mary wrenched the door open. Her eyes met Matthew's for a moment before his mesmerized gaze drifting down her frame, his eyes widening with every inch they traveled.

"W-wow," he stammered, his face reddening as his eyes snapped up quickly to meet hers, but then were averted as he looked up at the ceiling.

"That embarrassing, huh?" she asked, slipping past him to cross to the bed, unaware his eyes followed her back as she walked away. She turned, sitting on the edge of the mattress, eyes glued to the floor. "God, what was I thinking?"

In an instant, Matthew had approached, kneeling down in front of her.

"_This_ is what you bought when I was getting lunch?" he asked, a smile on his face.

"The saleswoman was very adamant about it and I didn't know enough Italian to talk her down," Mary replied, heart pounding as Matthews fingers traced the length of her shin.

"I'm eternally grateful to her for that," he replied softly. A moment later, he leaned forward to press his lips to her knee, trailing a line of kisses across her thigh.

"So, it wasn't a completely crap purchase?" she asked, inhaling sharply.

"I would venture to say it was the best one of the day. And that includes gelato after dinner," Matthew murmured, his lips moving over her hip.

"High praise," Mary said, fingers gliding through Matthew's hair.

He pulled away for a moment, settling back on his heels and gazing at her once more, the love she saw in his eyes making her brain feel fuzzy.

"Stop looking at me like that," she whispered.

"Like what?" Matthew asked, his eyes mischievous.

Instead of waiting for her response, he moved to the bed, kissing her so gently that Mary felt like she was falling even though she hadn't moved at all. She pressed into him, hands clutching his shirt before he leaned her back against the blankets, lips leaving hers to knead her neck. She exhaled slowly, her mind racing in spite of the haze, her worries eased once more by Matthew's lips.

_**Thoughts?**_


End file.
